


Problems Professor

by MagicalFae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-27 18:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalFae/pseuds/MagicalFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Problems Professor

**Author's note:** This is my first fanfic. Please have a read and tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer: The HP characters belong to J. K. Rowling!**

* * *

  **Problems Professor…**

 

The window darkened as the last rays of sunshine hid behind a black cloud. At his desk, Albus thumbed through the pages of the Daily Prophet. His skin froze under the light touch of the cool wind, ruffling the paper-thin pages. Low quiet murmurs breathed a hair away. Ever since Harry captured the Philosopher's Stone, Albus spent his time speculating how long it would delay Tom's rise to power. But knowing Tom he would find a way. Heavy footsteps battered the ground, alerting him to another presence. He paused and looked up. The head of Gryffindor house's face flushed a hot pink with her hat sitting slightly lopsided on her head. She reminded him vaguely of a ticking time-bomb. He lowered the copy of the Daily Prophet and allowed it lie on the desk. Dumbledore straightened in his chair, surveying her critically over his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah, Minerva," he mustered a pleasant smile. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Her hand twitched towards the wand a her side, " Oh, I think you know," she pierced him with a stern look.

I wouldn't have thought any other way, " Indeed, Gilderoy giving you trouble."

"What were you thinking Albus?" she burst out. To Albus it sounded like the strings had finally become loose. He awaited for her to proceed forward.

"What on earth possessed you to even consider a brainless fool such as him?" To be honest, he had thought nothing at all. The opportunity had presented itself. It was too good to pass up, after observing countless others. Though Gilderoy wasn't to his taste, or what he considered a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to be. Of course, he had nothing against him.

"I'm afraid Minerva he was the only man for the job, such as it were."

"A man Dumbledore, I wouldn't go that far. Could you not have found someone perhaps with more brain cells than he can afford."

Of course Albus knew of Gilderoy's exploits. After all he got several complaints from Flitwick and Sprout.

"Did you know Albus?" her eyebrows pinched together, "It took 3 second years to get rid of the pixies that infiltrated his classroom. If this is not evidence enough Albus, then I don't know what is. Gilderoy is not fit for the job. If not for Gilderoy that class would've suffered far less. Thanks to my students who handled the situation far more capably than Lockhart, who himself could not have done the same with the utmost care."

"My dear Professor, I believe Gilderoy meant well. However, if you feel it necessary you could always invite him for Pumpkin juice and Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. As I'm sure Rosemerta will be more than happy to serve."

She gave a derisive snort, "I hardly deem it necessary Dumbledore. I shan't bother Rosemerta with such mundane matters. I don't think it's fair to hassle her with my problems."

The door to the Headmaster's office burst open revealing a greasy haired potions professor, who by the looks of it appeared to be a little bit ruffled under the dark scowl he wore. Not even the owls would be foolish enough to approach him. Dumbledore waited for Snape to finish his rant, covering the basics - Gilderoy's irresponsibility and lack of common sense, before he interrupted.

"Dimwitted self-absorbed prat. Arrogant toerag. Half-pixelated monkey. I've never met anyone as talentless as him in my entire life. Even the half-giant deserves more credit than him."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Welcome Severus. What can I do for you?"

"Headmaster," he greeted and gave McGonagall a curt nod.

"I see you've joined the same predicament such as your colleagues, for Gilderoy's replacement. Tell me Severus, would you be interested in joining Minerva and Professor Lockhart at the Three Broomsticks by any chance?"

McGonagall imitated a retching noise like she had just swallowed a dragon egg. On the other hand Snape's eyes widened in absolute horror. Dumbledore chuckled. It amused him greatly how easy it was to unsettle his Colleagues. Although he did have to admit even to himself that there had to be something done about Lockhart. He might try having a word with him to lessen their burden. Snape was the first to recover from his bleak state.

"Pardon me Headmaster but I doubt a meeting with Gilderoy at the Three Broomsticks will anyhow improve his intellectual skills, rather boost his egotistic nature."

"I'm sorry you feel that way Severus. If it is any consolation I may try having a word with him."

"I wouldn't bother Albus. It will just go through one ear and out the other"

Snape grunted his ascent.

Their attention momentarily diverted as a large hooting noise reached their ears. The owl flitted across the room and dropped a sealed letter on his desk before retreating. The Headmaster ripped the seal to the envelope and read the note. When he was done, he folded back the letter and straightened, looking directly at his colleagues.

"It seems I have urgent business to attend to."

He walked briskly to the fireplace and erupted in green flames barely hearing the end of Dilys's speech, "I don't see what all the fuss is about. I think he has a charming smile and those curls…"


	2. P-P-P-Petrified...

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters**

* * *

  **P-P-P-Petrified…**

 

“Another student,” The head of Gryffindor house found it difficult to wrap her head around the prospect, “Hogwarts is beginning to become far less safe each day.”

“I think you might be right Minerva,” Professor Sprout shook her head; “I’m feeling quite sorry for Potter.”

“I know what you mean Pomona,” McGonagall wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a sigh escaping her lips; “It seems the boy’s going to find it even harder.”

She glanced at her, “Do they still suspect he’s the heir of Slytherin?”

She nodded gravely, her shoulders slumping, “Potter was found at the scene of the crime.”

Pomona was about to open her mouth but the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher got there first, “There now Professor, you aren’t the one to blame. The boy was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s fairly understandable why you’d find yourself responsible.”

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath through her nose and let it out loosely, “Gilderoy, what are you suggesting?”

Lockhart’s smile wavered, he opened his mouth, “I-I—I w-well--, “he stuttered. He swallowed back his words and was about to shake his head, but stopped when he saw her look his way. Gilderoy jerked his gaze away, so as not to further his embarrassment.

“My students are not to blame,” her voice held a level of conviction and ferocity, “If you are so keen on pointing fingers Gilderoy, I find you are barking up the wrong tree.”

“Why yes of course Minerva. You’re completely right,” Gilderoy toyed with the cuffs of his robes “There will be no reason for Harry to attack any student. After all he’s a Gryffindor why else would he be brave enough to investigate? Yes, quite right Minerva- simply ludicrous- utterly stupid-” stumbled Gilderoy in an unnaturally high-pitched voice.

“Thank you Gilderoy,” Professor McGonagall smiled falsely.

The Herbology teacher burst into laughter. McGonagall broke her gaze away from Lockhart and shot her a dark look. It was only then that Professor Sprout managed to disguise her laughter into a coughing fit, avoiding her gaze.

“As I was saying,” McGonagall rolled her shoulders, back straight, as sharp as a quill, her eyes zeroing on Lockhart, “I only wish no students were harmed. What are we going to explain to their parents, if this can’t be stopped?”

“By the looks of it,” Sprout crossed her arms, “We aren’t any closer to finding it out, than we were at the start.”

“Now, Pomona, Minerva,” Dumbledore sat forwards in his chair his blue eyes hard under the half-moon spectacles, losing their sheen, “We mustn’t loose courage. You have been preparing the Mandrake Roots have you not?”

“Of course Albus,” Sprout nodded. “But there is only so much I can do,” she muttered, her mouth tightening into a grim line.

“It’s a shame none of the students have been given the remedy of Petrification. I have no doubt it will help narrow down the suspects.” Gilderoy had his hands folded behind his back, busy scrutinising the contents of Dumbledore’s cabinet.

Professor Sprout expression varied from shock, disbelief, astonishment and anger. The emotion played a ping pong match going from one to the other like colourful rainbows. It all happened so fast that it took Minerva a moment to react. A deafening bang caught her attention as the vase shattered. Professor Lockhart lay sprawled on the floor from the outcome of a jinx spell.

McGonagall pulled Sprout aside, long enough for Dumbledore to produce a shield charm. McGonagall too was seething at his words, her wand clutched painstakingly tight, but she restrained herself better than Sprout, from attacking him. Sprout struggled in her arms. Lockhart stood unsteadily to his feet gripping his broken jaw, face pale and wide eyes lit with surprise.

“You fool!” spat McGonagall, “Weren’t you listening to a word we were saying, or is that too hard for your dull brain to comprehend.”

His cheeks reddened. He straightened his robes with as much dignity he could muster, which McGonagall found was none at all. Albus stepped away from the desk and made a short path to Gilderoy, his movements swift and agile even in this day and age. His wand, which he used efficiently, lay still in his hand. He had not bothered to conceal it. It was no surprise to McGonagall that Albus appeared calm and impassive as he handled the situation. She could not find a trace of emotion in his voice as he spoke.  

“Professor Lockhart, I feel it prudent you leave my office with care. I think you might find yourself at the hands of yet another stick. We’ve had enough incidents as it is. It will be a shame if you ended up in the Hospital Wing also.”

McGonagall wasn’t sure if he was being mocking, witty or else underlining his words with a warning. The latter was more plausible. Lockhart stiffened but nodded. Careful, Lockhart shuffled to the office door gazing around every so often. Drawing closer to the door he hurried out of sight, the door clicking into place at his departure. Silence greeted the room. Dumbledore gave the door one sweeping look before he seated himself behind his desk. He looked at Sprout patiently. It was hard to decipher what he thought.

“Pomona I trust that won’t happen again,” he stared at her, gaze unflinching.

She kept silent, her eyes fixed on the floor, body facing away slightly.

“Do not misunderstand me. I am fully aware of your concerns, but that does not excuse your behavior. I have complete faith that you will try to make it right. We cannot afford to have incidents that will garner unwanted attention. There have been too many as far as I’m concerned.”  

Slowly Professor Sprout lifted her head and locked eyes with Dumbledore. It went like this until she looked away.

“I gather, you understand, correct?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

From behind, McGonagall shared a look with Dumbledore. They will be okay for now at least. It seems she will have to keep an eye out.


	3. Power Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one! Tell me what you think. Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

**Power Play…. **

Blue-green liquid dribbled from the glasses, frothing and bubbling. Steam poured out, spreading like a slithering snake throughout the staffroom. The head of Hufflepuff house breathed in deeply plunging through the sugar sweet and coconut taste of her Bubblerum invention. A smile brightened her features. She held up the glass to her face and peered within. Her happiness reflected in the glass. That should do it. Nothing would ruin her day, not now or the near future – but maybe that was asking for too much. She blew out a breath and settled the glass back on the tray. The swish of fabric drew her attention. Her fellow colleague strode in, lips pursed and constantly mumbled under her breath. Her eyes were cast down not paying attention to her surroundings. Then as if someone pressed a button she halted abruptly and looked up.

“What is all of this?” McGonagall scanned the room, her face bewildered. The room seemed congested with strokes of vapour .

“Not to worry Minerva,” she waved a hand as if swatting a fly, “It’s all under control.” She braced her hands over the glasses and looked at her pointedly, _look at my prize._

McGonagall raised her brow inquiringly.

“Bubblerum.”

The transfiguration teacher stared.

Sprout’s smile dropped, “My new invention,” she voiced brightly. McGonagall nodded her head like she’s supposed to understand. Sprout shook her head understanding her dilemma and let it go. She waved her wand and levitated a glass towards Minerva. In mid-air McGonagall looked at the glass, then at Sprout and back to the glass again. She nodded encouragingly, “Drink it Minerva.”

The head of Gryffindor house gingerly lifted her hand and drew the glass to her mouth. She paused to stare then nodded, seeming to approve and drank. She gulped down the oceanic liquid ink.

“You’ve finally done it!”

Flitwick’s squeaky voice pierced the room startling McGonagall out of her blissful drinking to choke. Sprout suppressed a laugh and levitated his drink in his direction. McGonagall who managed to get her coughing fit under control turned to glare at him. Flitwick shot her an apologetic look. Pomona not wanting a fight to erupt started to converse with him.

“Yes Filius, I have, “she went into an animated discussion on the ingredients involved. During her explanation McGonagall wandered to find herself a seat. Pomona and Filius joined her after she finished.

“You failed to mention you converted the staffroom into a potions classroom.”

The three head of houses snapped their heads to the entrance of the staffroom. Snape stood rooted his nose wrinkling in distaste. Sprout bounced out of her seat and brandished the glass of Bubblerum to him. He quirked a brow at her but otherwise drank it, rolling the liquid on his tongue and swallowed.

“Did you know Albus agreed to orchestrate a dueling club, and might I add Gilderoy opted to lead?”

Snape spit out the drink. The other half he held spilled on his black robes. His nostrils flared, “That vile-” His voice drowned out by the flow of water that spurted out of Sprout’s wand. He coughed and spluttered water out his mouth.

“Honestly Severus, if I knew you were picky about what you drink I would never have offered,” said Pomona in a weary voice.

“Oh Pomona, I don’t think it was the drink per say.” McGonagall’s voice carried. She turned and paused to examine for any injuries inflicted. The Herbology teacher could not fathom where that crazed smile came from. She was sure Gilderoy was going to give a lasting impression, on everyone. Her eyes travelled back to Snape who cleaned up pretty well, after silently casting the _tergeo_ spell to remove the effects of his disheveled state.

Snape looked up and glided into the room. Sprout was surprised to see his mouth curving into a similar compatible twisted version of hers. “I think you’d find, Minerva, I quite agree with the sentiment.”

Sprout gaped at both McGonagall and Snape not believing a word she heard. Snape and McGonagall agreeing on the something. The world must’ve turned over. The head of Slytherin house took the armchair beside the fire. Sprout picked up from where she left off, taking her earlier spot. “The first time he’s ever thought of something useful I imagine.”

“I think the idea was good on his part,” said Flitwick. “It will enable the students to defend themselves against another threat which is quite useful in my opinion.”

“No-one is contradicting you Filius,” murmured McGonagall as she patted his hand, “If anything we’re more concerned for the students.”

“The tables have finally turned in your favor Minerva,” Snape smirked, “Dumbledore insisted I assist him, just in case Gilderoy doesn’t charm himself by accident.”

“I’m glad Severus,” McGonagall sipped more of the Bubblerum. Flitwick conjured another glass of Bubblerum for his now, empty one. Though Sprout wished the moment would last longer it was however shattered as Gilderoy emerged into the staffroom whistling a tune under his breath. Flitwick yelped as Professor Sprout’s half-drunk glass spilt on his robes.

Sprout got out the seat and apologized.

“Its fine, Pomona,” Flitwick’s face puffed a bright red while Sprout fussed over his robes. An awkward silence filled the room after his protest in which he took the opportunity to explain that ‘Granger asked him about charms’ leaving the room rather shortly after. Gilderoy stared after Flitwick, puzzled. Sprout exchanged a look with the other two once Flitwick disappeared. It would take him awhile to figure out why he left. There was no point hanging around here any longer than necessary.

McGonagall cleared her throat before she could speak her head held up high, “Excuse me, I need to speak to a student about my Transfiguration assignment.” She parted the room brusquely. Gilderoy just stood there not yet registering the reasoning of this charade or maybe it was his too good acting skills aiding him to look this way. Snape’s lips curled his black eyes directed at Lockhart.

“It seems-, “he stood up elegantly, “There is work to be done. I must prepare the ingredients that are required for my potions class.”

Sparing her a glance he too walked out the room. Sprout stared transfixed at his retreating back barely restricting the curse that was threatening to bubble up to the surface. Glowering, she turned away roughly and took a seat not even bothering to share small talk. Traitorous bastards.


	4. Petty Potions and Pesky Prisoners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next one. Enjoy! Please tell me what you think. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: HP character belong to J.K.Rowling

 

* * *

 

**Petty Potions and Pesky Prisoners… **

 

Potter and his friends once again saved the day. Hurrah! Another thing to boost, his already big ego. Arrogant like his father. No respect for school rules. Snape didn’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, rewarding them for insolent behaviour . If he were him he’d expel them from the school instantly. That’d teach Potter and his friends to never step out of line again. But he supposed he couldn’t discount the outcome of such impudence.

“Lemon drop!”

Snape stepped behind the owl statue and rose up the stairs as the winding staircase spun in a spiral. Once the staircase slowed Snape came face-to-face with the office door. Without bothering to knock he yanked open the door. He expected the office to be empty, what he didn’t expect was his ex-rival to be there. He froze on the threshold taking in the gaunt man in front of him. Lupin stared back at him mirroring the same surprise that mask his own. Snapping out of his daze Snape meandered inside regarding him one last time before smoothly occupying the seat furthest to him, facing the Headmaster’s desk. The silence that followed was enough to discomfort Snape and it didn’t help that the portraits were asleep as well as Fawkes being out on the hunt.

Usually it wasn’t this difficult to ignore any sound that disrupted his quiet time. But with Lupin he could do no such thing. Therefore he suffered in silence. The hiss of his breath if it was any indication was hard to drown out. Eyeing the seat ahead of him Snape couldn’t help the sneer that manifested on his face. Dumbledore had to choose this moment to be absent. He was perfectly aware of their history. All he was doing is adding fuel to the fire. Snape had no idea what Dumbledore’s intentions were, besides the obvious reason but he knew that he can’t possibly allow a werewolf to teach the students. It’s preposterous, mad, completely out of the ordinary. He must have a reason; he doesn’t do things without one, which is why he was gently summoned here.

“Great, another thing to improve his day,” he muttered carelessly under his breath.

The _squeak_ of leather and _creak_ of wood initially drew his eyes which flickered to his left. The werewolf adjusted his rugged robes that were creased and messy. Snape wrinkled his nose, his lips involuntarily curled. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to remark, “Enjoy the moonlit walk, Lupin.” Knowing it would hurt more than any other insult.

Lupin jerked his head up, hard enough for it to crack. His eyes flew to his. His face was a perfect imitation of a blank paper. Still, there was no denying the tightness of his eyes and the tense set of his shoulders that the effect wasn’t unjust. However, he didn’t acknowledge it with a retort. Snape was hoping to get a reaction. He was unprepared for silence. Of course the opposite would have happened if it was Black. The escaped convict. Snape snorted humorously. Bloody nuisance. He couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the same man he despised. Everywhere he went he saw wanted posters. He looked worse than Lupin and for Snape to say was more than a miracle. His ear’s pricked as the sound of rustling and scraping caught his attention forcing him to look up. The ex-Gryffindor student held up the Daily Prophet. At the back of the paper portrayed a young man with black hair, pale features and haunted brown eyes. Snape’s mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile as his eyes fixed on that of the murderer’s.

“Not on friendly terms with Black anymore, are we Lupin,” snarled Snape. Eyes slit, “Being the selfish, arrogant brat that he is. He lacked the common insight to compensate for his unlucky fortune. Convenient, isn’t it, that he was behind bars not so long ago.”  

His words were met with the wind whistling. Then Lupin lowered the newspaper and quirked a brow, “What are you implying, Severus.”

The potions master glared with menace scorching Lupin’s eyes with the intensity of his stare, “Black is a murderer!” he spit out the words. His ribs cracked from the pressure of his heart as it hammered against his chest. “I hope you aren’t planning to reconcile your friendship.”

The werewolf looked indifferent. The only thing betraying that emotion was the hard set of his mouth and slight narrowing of the eyes. His voice liquefied his words, “What gave you that idea?”

“Answer the question,” he roared.

Flinging the newspaper aside he sat forward in his chair leaning his arms on his knees, “I didn’t realise this was a test. I would’ve brought my quill and parchment.”

Snape nostrils flared. His hand itched to grab his wand so he could curse him. “ _How dare you_?” He was tempted to hurl himself at Lupin. The blood churning in his veins. But his focus fixed elsewhere. Snape whirled.

Dumbledore materialised from the fireplace. His red and gold robes swayed above his buckled boots. Those devilish bright blue orbs usually twinkling underlined worry, wariness and something between cunning and master creativity. Dumbledore was known for his secretive nature so it was no surprise to Snape that he chose this moment to skip straight to the point after swiftly taking his seat behind the desk.

“Bearing in mind Remus’s condition, certain precautions are needed to be taken care of. As you are aware Severus, I am in need of your services. I recommend that you create a wolfsbane potion for Mr. Lupin.”

Snape scowled. Of course he would have to do it for the mutt. Dumbledore wasn’t exactly going to give him the chance to goad him if he is being careful. He reluctantly bowed his head drawing his gaze on Dumbledore longer than was necessary. Neither broke eye contact and it was to him that Dumbledore spoke first, “If you would please Severus. I have further business with Lupin.”

The head of Slytherin house stood up gracefully, hands spread on the desk but didn’t leave without stating his opinion. “Headmaster, a murderer is on the loose.”

“I’m well aware Severus,” Dumbledore looked calmly back at him.

“Do you think it _wise_ to allow a _werewolf_ , “he said with revulsion- “in _this_ school, especially considering their history? Aren’t you afraid that Black will be able to have free reigning, resulting in his presence within the boundaries of the castle walls?”

“Have you forgotten, Severus,” Dumbledore tipped his body forward, his hands cupped on the desk. Snape detected a glimpse of irony his eyes, “Help will only be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. In this case Severus, Mr. Black won’t be able to set foot in this castle while I’m here. And again, always remember. I will only truly have left when none here are loyal to me.”

Snape’s jaw clenched but otherwise kept quiet. With the flap of his cloak he swept out of the room cursing as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The portraits slept through all of that, Lol.


	5. Predictable, Protective Proclivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been long, sorry been busy with stuff. Here's the next one. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP characters and the marvelous world J.K so beautifully created.**

* * *

** Predictable, Protective Proclivity… **

 

“Don’t know what he was thinking?” McGonagall leaned back in her chair rolling the glass globe in her hand, her thin lips tightening. “He was lucky my students weren’t harmed. Completely foolish! Isn’t there anyone left with brains anymore?” she shook her head and resumed rolling the globe. The sound of it smacking the table echoed through the room.

Silence greeted her. Dumbledore stared intently into the fire, the orange flames dancing in his eyes masking their brightness. Remus glanced at Flitwick flicking through a piece of blank parchment. Odd. The smacking had stopped. He turned to the front watching McGonagall scribble and mark down on pieces of parchment, the globe now sat still nearby.

Remus didn’t know what to think about the incident, he struggled with what to believe. He wanted to be certain about Sirius, confident in his conviction that it left no room for doubt, but life wasn’t being easy on him. Could it really be like everyone thought? Remus knew there was no evidence to the contrary, but despite this he could not help but ask himself why Sirius didn’t kill Harry if that was in fact his intention. It made no sense. Of course, he could easily blame Sirius and save himself the headache. However, he needed to know – _what was the truth and what were the lies?_ They’d been merged and twisted to such an extent that it had become hard to separate the two.

“How could he have let him in?” she threw her hands up breaking the silence. Remus got the feeling Dumbledore already suspected that it was only a matter of time before she exploded. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, mouth twitching at the corners. “Did he not hear the news? Is that armor of his too tight for him? I suppose I could do some tampering. That way his ears and eyes will be open. A little silent charm wouldn’t hurt. He talks far too much for my taste.”

“Now Minerva,” Dumbledore interrupted eyes glinting mischievously. “You aren’t planning to incapacitate him next. Dare I say he’ll be no use to us otherwise?”

“Sir Cadogan,” she lifted her chin, “will do just fine without his tongue.”

“Don’t you think you’re going a bit too far Minerva?” said Flitwick scrutinizing her face.

“I don’t think so Filius,” lips pressed together, she said, “Did you find him?” Her gaze directed on Dumbledore - Remus tried not to flinch.

Dumbledore briefly looked at him. “Unfortunately Minerva, Mr Black would not have been foolish enough to lurk behind while the castle was being searched. I did, however, give strict instructions to ensure the safety of the students.” His gaze trailed around the room, eyes piercing each and every one of them.

Remus kept his expression blank but he suspected that wouldn’t fool anyone. They all knew how close he and Sirius were. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed McGonagall frown at Dumbledore.

“Do you think he will return, Albus?” she said as she settled the quill down and leaned forward.

Dumbledore sighed, mouth puckered, “I think it’s safe to say-”

BANG! The door shook against the wall, and on the threshold, hunched over clutching the door frame was Sprout, out of breath. Remus loosened his hand from his wand and glanced at the others. McGonagall looked startled, Flitwick dropped his parchment and Dumbledore merely looked calm but alert. Sprout spoke first whilst keeping her breathing under control.

“Fight- on the Pitch,” she gasped.

Severus appeared from behind out of nowhere. “Naturally, Gryffindor I suspect are instigating the whole thing.” He looked at McGonagall as he said this, looking undoubtedly smug. “Headmaster, why don’t you let me handle the situation.”

McGonagall grit her teeth, eyes flashing dangerously, “Severus, do you have any idea what you are saying?”

“If you’re referring to my intellect I think you’d find it’s working far more capably than the students can employ to their education.”

Before McGonagall could say another word Sprout intervened. She rolled her eyes at Snape, “It’s your House you idiot.”

“What!” he stared at her flabbergasted?

Remus coughed, making a poor impression of masking his amusement. Severus narrowed his eyes at him. McGonagall was having far too much fun in his discomfort. She stuck her chin in the air and arched a brow, “What were you saying Severus?”

Snape flared his nostrils but otherwise kept his mouth shut.

“You see Severus,” her voice held a superior lilt. “My students wouldn’t create unnecessary problems for themselves, unless they could handle the responsibility that comes with it.”

“There’s another thing,” said Sprout, she looked over at Flitwick, “your students are the ones they’re fighting.”

“My students!” Flitwick let out a shocked squeak, “Are you sure Pomona?”

Sprout nodded.

“I bet it was those Slytherins!” his hands fisted the air, “they never learn. Always sneaking tricks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who started it.”

“I think you’d find Fillius,” interjected Snape, “that my House is not solely to blame. If you’re students weren’t such a bunch of know-it-alls, this could have been avoided.”

His face puffed bright red. Sparks flew from his wand. Dumbledore stepped forward sensing the tense atmosphere. He directed his question at Sprout.

“Pomona, would you care to share details?”

Sprout snapped her head at him only realising just now that he was in the room considering she was pre-occupied. “Someone’s set fire to themselves.”

“What!” McGonagall exclaimed. She jerked out of from behind her desk and surged forward. “Are all the students alright? Is anyone hurt? Will we need Poppy to take a look at the injuries?”

Sprout waved her hand and spoke on hurriedly, “I’m sure they’re alright Minerva. It’s all under control.”

McGonagall took a deep breath and nodded.

Dumbledore paused, his eyes held a sparkle of amusement, “Tell me Pomona, did they impale on their own wand by any chance.”

“Albus!” she glared, “this is not the time.”

Dumbledore chuckled quietly, “Very well Pomona. We should get going. Is there anyone present at the pitch?” he asked.

“Ronalda,” she replied.

They headed for the door, Flitwick being the first who shouldered past them outrunning them all. Whilst walking briskly down the hall, Dumbledore smiled brightly and said, “Anyone care for a sherbet lemon.”


End file.
